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* * *
“This is Timothy Mallard, he has just joined our cause,” Billy said, sitting in a booth across from Rebecca and Jennifer. They had just finished a Sunday meeting, and we're having an evening nightcap.
Jennifer looked at the man that had just slid into the booth next to Billy. She did not like the feel of him. He had red hair, just as she did, and freckles on his face. But he had a very hard look to him, as though he had done some things that needed to be kept secret. Jennifer turned to Rebecca, who also seemed a bit squeamish in her seat.
“Thank you for meeting me here, Timothy,” Billy said.
“I am here for the cause, and for the work. What do you have for me this night?”
“You are to ride northeast, to Hertfordshire.” Billy said.
Jennifer's eyes widened. She had not heard the name of her home county in months, except when she went to the post to send money home or a letter to Katrina. The only time she heard it was when the postmaster would say it back to her. Now she wondered what business Billy had there. She listened in carefully.
“You will ride to the crossroads of the old Roman Road, and Wessler. Tomorrow night at midnight you will meet a man, dressed all in black.”
Shock overwhelmed Jennifer and disbelief took hold of her at his words. They spoke of Jacob, it had to be.
She held her breath.
When you meet him you say these words; the night falls fast in Winter. To which he will reply, and the wind cuts like a knife. Then you will know that he is the correct man. You will hand him the coin, and he will hand you the papers that I seek. Do you have this correctly?”
“I do.” Timothy answered.
Billy gave him a look, and then placed a small bag with coin on the table, Jennifer did not know how much, or how Billy came across it. He had grown quite secretive as of late.
“Then go, I shall see you in two days’ time.”
Timothy grabbed the coin bag and left.
“Who is he meeting?” Jennifer asked.
“That is none of your concern. It is important matters, and the less you know the better. For both of you,” He said.
For a moment, she thought about running after Timothy, to beg him to take her with him. She would enter the long travel, if he was to meet Jacob. She longed to see him, to hear his voice again. She preferred those lazy weeks with him at his home, to this factory life. Jacob had been right, this life was too hard. She remembered him opposing her going to London to work in the factory, letting her know that it was not for her. He had been right about that, but now it was too late.
But the fact that Billy now had business with him, was quite interesting indeed. She wondered if the man in black would come to London, and if so, would she ever see him?
“Jennifer, I brought you and Rebecca here, to tell you that the pamphlet has been quite a success. You saw the numbers at the meeting tonight, they have tripled. We continue in this manner, and in a year or two we will have enough numbers to be taken seriously. It is all because of your writing, Jennifer, it moved people. There are those that want children out of the factories just as you do, and your story showed them the truth. It showed those that think that the labour does nothing to children, but it does. I wanted to thank you, allow me to buy you a drink.”
“Thank you, Billy. It is not necessary though. I did it because it needed to be done.”
“Wine here!” he shouted to the bar maid. She nodded.
“Never the less, you two are having wine with me in celebratrion.”
* * *
January 1856
The door to Jennifer's room opened. Mariah sat up in bed, excited. She always seemed to be excited, and Jennifer felt bad that she was not able to be her companion, but she had much too much on her mind.
Karen had opened the door, showing in a new girl. She had brown hair, brown eyes, a pale complexion and a slender figure. From the looks of it, Jennifer thought she might be from the country just as she was.
Mariah quickly stood up and greeted her, and Jennifer was glad that she took her hostess duties very seriously. This way, Jennifer did not have to.
“My name is Mariah, I guess I be your roommate. That be Jennifer over there, she does not say much.”
Jennifer looked to Mariah. She was not going to apologise for not being very friendly and having lots of conversation. For she had been through a lot, and the fresh memory of Kevin was still on her mind as it had only been days since his death.
“Hello, pleased to meet you both. My name is Charlotte Sutterfield. I just arrived from the countryside, and I will be working at the factory. This is my first time in London,” Charlotte placed her carpet bag down on the empty bed.
I was right, she is from the country. She does not know what she is in for with this factory life, but she will learn.
“It'd be nice meeting you too miss. It will be nice to have someone to talk to again, since Jennifer don't talk much,” Mariah said.
Jennifer did not object, and perhaps Mariah was trying to get her to speak up as she continued to mention how much Jennifer did not talk. But she was not going to take the bait, instead she buried her head in the pamphlet that Billy had published, reading the stories again.
A few moments later, this new girl was walking out the door with Mariah, and Jennifer was glad for the solace. At least the new girl would keep Mariah busy, and she could be the quiet roommates once more.
The next day, the new roommate was settled in, and Mariah took her under her wing, allowing Jennifer to go about her business. And today, her business was excitedly reading a letter from Katrina. Katrina did not write often, and since Jennifer had not send a letter with her new address, she had gone by her old place of lodging, the letter waited for.
Now she tore it open, laying on her bed. Excited to escape from London life or just a few minutes and imagine what Katrina would say to her. Perhaps there was news of the Black Bandit, but that would be wishful thinking.
Dear Jennifer, I am sorry to write to you under such circumstances. I hope that you are well. But it is my obligation to inform you that your brother Adam has grown ill. Do not be alarmed, for it is not too serious, or so Dr. Miller says. But he will need continuous care and medication in order to stay of good health. Your mother has asked me to write this letter and inform you that the medication cost half a shilling, and is needed on a monthly basis. For how long it is not known. Pray write and tell me how you are, and how you will proceed in this matter. Will you still return to us in March?
Your loving friend, Katrina.
“No, Adam...”
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chapter
